Archipelago
by radishface
Summary: CHAPTER 3 UP. He thought it was all over, he thought he was dead, but it was only a part of him that ceased to exist. [akuroku, rikusora, axelsora] A story about Axel and the aftermath of Kingdom Hearts II.
1. Prologue

**Archipelago**

Summary: He thought it was all over, he thought he was dead, but it was only half of him that ceased to exist. The other half lived on. akuroku

**Radishface**

Prologue

* * *

Sora was back in Destiny Islands and everything was back to the way it was before.

_Funny,_ his mother said, _how one minute I was just on the couch reading—and then the next minute there was that storm outside—and then—_

_Your mother and I,_ his father said, _we didn't know where you had gone._

_But that wasn't all_, his mother said, _that storm tore up the house, _

_But it's like it never happened,_ his father said. _I remember being stuck in something for a while. _

_It seemed like a while,_ his mother huffed. _It was—_

Grey.

When Destiny Islands disappeared, where did it go?

It was as if Destiny Islands—and the world in which they were situated—had been paved away to make room for an intergalactic highway. And now they were back; through force of will, no doubt, through Sora's force of will—

As long as he held the keyblade, he had a duty to fulfill. But Destiny Islands was safe and secure—he didn't have anything to do in the mean time—school had suddenly appeared the way it had before, and the summer breezes had begun to give way to autumn chills.

Summer vacation was over, thought Sora. It felt familiar.

* * *

He was poised on the edge of the classroom window. He wasn't worried about falling off; he'd done this so many times before. He saw Kairi coming at him out of the corner of his eye, and leapt off the windowsill just in time before she pushed him.

"You're going to fall over one of these days, you know." Kairi smiled. Sora laughed.

"If you'd stop making so much noise when you came in the room, you might actually surprise me for once."

"It's deliberate," Kairi huffed. "I don't actually want you to fall off, you know."

"Yeah?" Sora looked outside. The leaves weren't falling yet. But the color they were—

_red_

-- indicated that they would. Soon.

"Sora?"

Kairi was waving her hand in front of him. Sora blinked.

"What?"

"You zoned out for a minute." Kairi frowned. "You've been doing that a lot lately. Something on your mind?"

Sora tried to think of anything that was on his mind. He drew a blank.

"Never mind," Kairi turned around, heading for the door. "Lunch break is almost over. We should get to our next class."

"Okay."

When Sora closed his eyes for the night, he knew what he would see.

Roxas came to life vividly at night, during his dreams. Roxas thought a lot more than Sora did, about a lot of things; on the nature of friendship, the ways of the world, the meaning of love, that kind of thing. Or maybe Sora was just making excuses, maybe Sora didn't want to own up to all of his thoughts. After all—Roxas was completely integrated with him now. It was as if they had never been separated in the first place.

_I got my heart back_, thought Sora. _This vessel—this container, my body—holds my heart—_

Why did he still feel empty?

* * *

"Do you think everybody is going to be okay?" Riku asked him. They were sitting at the lunch tables. Sora had been chewing the same bite of sandwich for five minutes, and it was getting a little more than disgusting in his mouth. But he didn't want to swallow.

"It was fine when we left it," Sora said, his mouth full.

"Ugh." Riku made a face, but Sora could see the indulgent smile in his eyes. "Close your mouth when you're talking to me."

Sora blinked, and then registered the joke. "Oh."

Riku laughed, and reached over, and flicked his nose. Sora spluttered indignantly, and flushed with embarrassment as the tuna fish sandwich mush dripped from the corner of his mouth and onto his shirt.

"You'd better clean up." Riku was still laughing, the jerk. "To think that this kid holds the key to all of our destinies."

"No pressure," Sora muttered under his breath, wiping himself off.

The leaves were starting to fall.

They'd been an angry shade of red for the last month. Sora was beginning to wonder if they'd ever drop at all, or if they'd just stay up there—sort of permanent. He liked that idea, blazing red trees set against the bright blue of the sky, all year around. The autumn bitterness and chill warmed him more than any day at the beach.

He wondered when he had become an autumn kind of person. He wondered when it had ever really been autumn in Destiny Islands.

His shoes rustled the leaves, crunched the dead ones. He liked wading around in the sea of scarlet. But he knew it wouldn't last long—

He felt so sad, so unbearably sad, for some reason.

How does one reach the next life without leaving the present one?

It was a question Sora had been asking himself lately. He shouldn't have any reason to ask that question, save for the most obvious one.

_I would_

_Miss you_

_

* * *

_

He went to the cave at sundown, ignoring the protests of his mother, who told him that he had to stay and do his homework. But really, what was the point of doing his homework if the sky was just going to open up again and swallow his home into his seedy vortex? It would be a better excuse for not turning in his homework than saying that his dog ate it.

The door was still half-etched, half-protruding from the cave walls. Sora resisted the temptation to press his ear against it and listen for something from the other side. Instead, he sat down on the cave floor and rummaged around in his pockets.

He had found a leaf the other day. He'd been walking through the leaves again—this time they were all dead, and brown, and crunched when he walked. But a red leaf fluttered by, still brilliant in its decaying, aging prime—he caught it between his hands. The color—

_crimson_

reminded him.

Sora sat in the cave and wrapped his scarf a little tighter around his neck, huddling his knees up to his chest and passing the leaf back and forth between his hands.

Having a heart—that was a privilege. But if you could still make yourself act like you had one—and make yourself believe the feelings you outwardly expressed—then why should people not believe you?

It must need another heart to believe—

_My heart just wouldn't be in it, you know?_

_

* * *

_

He woke up the next morning, groggy and drowsy. He didn't know why he had gotten up so early, especially when he had gone to bed so late. The sun was barely over the horizon.

Sora brushed his teeth and washed his face and took a quick shower to try and wake himself up. He plodded downstairs and reluctant choked down a bowl of cereal. He still hadn't finished his homework assignment from last night, he could probably finish it on his way to school.

His backpack felt strangely heavy. He felt strangely heavy himself, like he was carrying somebody else on his back— or somebody's burden. But he didn't want to get too metaphorical.

He headed to the bus stop, nibbling on the end of his pencil, eyes fixated on his homework. There was somebody standing under the barren tree by the bus stop. Sora looked up.

He couldn't have been much older than Riku. His red hair was tied back in a spiky ponytail and his bangs hung haphazardly in front of his eyes, green eyes lively, mouth unsure of itself, a smile one moment and a frown the next. His build was tall and lanky, his hands were shoved into his pockets, as if once they were out, they wouldn't be able to contain themselves.

"Hey." Sora said, trying to quell the emotion that was threatening to rise up in his chest. He knew this person. He _knew_.

The red-headed youth looked back at him, and something flashed, then dulled, in the green eyes. "Hi."

There was a moment of silence between the two of them as they studied each other.

"You're up pretty early for school," Sora said.

"I don't like to sleep." The redhead proclaimed, a little loudly. "What a waste of time."

Sora let out a reluctant smile. "Are you new around here? I haven't seen you at school before."

"School— oh, I'm not here to learn."

"Dropout?" Sora remarked.

"Only by choice."

Another lengthy silence. This time, Sora looked away first. "Well."

"I'm—" the redhead fidgeted. Squinted. Shook his head, rubbed his hands together. "I'm looking for someone. I've been looking for a while, actually."

"Oh." Sora's heart skipped a beat, his breathing hitched, his cheeks flushed.

"Yeah." The green eyes met Sora's, unblinking. "You wanna know who?"

Sora buried his face with his hands. He didn't understand this feeling, this head-twisting euphoria, an almost enjoyable nausea— it wasn't his feeling—

"Who?"

"Roxas." The redhead said the name slowly, as if sounding it out for the first time. "R-o-x-a-s. Got it memorized?"

* * *

to be continued

Reviews are greatly appreciated! This is my first Kingdom Hearts fic, so I'd love any pointers/tips on storyline stuff, especially where accuracy is concerned. Thanks again for reading!


	2. Chapter 1: Pangaea

**Archipelago**

_By Radishface_

**Chapter One: Pangaea **

- - -

There must have been one point where he had been genuinely happy. But throughout his childhood, it had been misery throughout and throughout, moments of escape peppered with moments of glee at having escaped, only to be drawn in again to the world that he called—family. If it could be called that.

Axel had a storybook image of what a family should be: dinner around the dinner table, mom in apron, making dinner, dad at a desk job, coming home through the front door—maybe even the other way around. Perhaps he was the one who screwed it up.

Older brother was the brilliant one in the family. Had enough guts to get out, too. He never came home much, never kept in touch at all. Axel remembered when he was just a kid, struggling through middle school, not struggling so much in the academic aspect but just—_struggling_, in general—his brother cruised on through high school, left home with a full scholarship to a prestigious university, and they'd never heard from him again.

As in all dysfunctional families, his father was an alcoholic and his mother was fragile. Axel couldn't imagine what possible angst his father would have to drink away—on the good days, the days of escape—his father would come home from the quarry with some hilarious story to tell, and they would— like a real family—sit around the dinner table and laugh over stupid, G-rated things. Most of the time, though, he came home in a bad mood, in a furious temper, drunk, smelling like beer and whiskey and whatever tequila they had in stock at the bar that night and would knock things over and yell at mother, for their situation, for letting Lex go off to college instead of take over his position at the quarry, for letting all these things happen because she didn't have a will of her own. Axel watched all of this in morbid fascination, on occasion involving himself in their household drama. Perhaps it was good that they didn't have much furniture; less things to break.

His respite from it all was in the friends he had at school. He talked and laughed loudly, obnoxiously, at school, and everybody thought he was kind of an asshole but still a likeable one. Axel never said anything he didn't mean.

He came home one day after school to find his house up in flames, firemen trying to extinguish the fire from the woodwork, policemen trying to calm the neighbors. Axel watched it with something akin to indifference, and asked his next-door neighbor, a dumpy middle-aged woman, what had happened.

_Oh, there were screams, and shouts_, she blubbered, _next thing I knew there was this horrible crash and then the house went up in smoke_

The firemen brought out two charred bodies. Axel closed his eyes.

_A gas pipe burst. We guess somebody was smoking a cigarette and that's what set everything off. Are these your parents, son? _

Axel opened his eyes, and nodded mutely. Funny that the man should call him _son,_ especially as it wasn't his title to keep any longer.

_We'll have somebody come over immediately and take you to the youth center. _

Axel hung around the smoldering ruins of his house for a while, debating whether to venture in and salvage some of his stuff. He decided against it.

That night, he stayed over at a friend's house. His friend's parents were appropriately sympathetic to his plight. He didn't feel like talking much. But he woke up in the middle of the night with tears streaming down his cheeks and mucus in his nose and his friend asking him, awkwardly, if he would like a glass of water or something. They were both guys, they didn't know jack about comforting shit. Axel rolled over and told him to fuck off.

The next morning, the brother he hadn't seen for two years came to collect him. He came to collect Axel like he came to collect the will. Their parents' will had left both of them half of everything, not that there was much to give away; his brother claimed him, everything in the will, and took Axel off to boarding school. It wasn't half bad.

When his roommate asked him about his background (of course he would, it was inevitable that roommates would eventually have these sort of heart-to-heart talks), he told him without a thought. His classmate thought he was an interesting kind of guy—how could he talk so dispassionately about his family members? Oh, well, Axel surmised, maybe it was because they were pretty dispassionate about him. Hm, his roommate said, and seemed to mull it over for a little bit. Then he leaned in and put his arm around Axel's shoulder, and they sat like that for a while, watching the lunch crowds go by.

Was he angry about how he had been treated in the past? If he was, now wasn't the time to think about it. Contrary to his perpetually sullen look, Axel was actually one of the brightest students in school. He didn't know where his brains came from—his mother had certainly never displayed any spark of wit, and if his father had any kind of sense in him, it had all been smothered under the alcohol. He wondered if he were actually somebody else's kid—if his dad wasn't actually his dad—if his mother had slept around with some other man and had him. If that were really the case—he would have to hand it over to his mother. Sleeping around took irresponsibility, but it also took guts.

Axel had guts. Axel lost his first kiss to a girl in a late-night game of spin-the-bottle, and lost his virginity to an upperclassman when he was being hazed for a particular club. After that it was boy after boy and girl after girl. Sure, he might do the whole blushing bit, but he was more interested in the sucking and fucking. Axel had a dirty mouth, they said about him, he could talk into your pussy, through your cock, until your ears came off.

_Love_ was a foreign concept.

He went steady with some broad for four months. Nazareth was as cute as a button and just as talkative as Axel was. During the time they were going steady, Axel did not touch another person. He understood the meaning of fidelity just as well as he understood infidelity. They had talked about the meaning of that—of "going steady," of commitment. She came from a good family, a rich background, landed gentry, if you really wanted to get into it. Axel was an orphan with good grades. They got along well, until she cheated on him with another blueblood one weekend at her beach house. Axel promptly dumped her and the two of them never spoke again. He felt something then—he had genuinely liked her, liked her company and her looks, and though he never pretended that it was _love_, the absence of her led her to believe that he had lost something important to him, whether it was his pride or his dignity or the potential for love.

He stayed in this funk until he smoked his first cigarette.

It had been handed to him with nervous hands. His roommate—the same one that had asked him about his past—had stolen a pack from his mother and had snuck it to school. He and Axel had been sitting on the rooftops of the school, waiting for the bell to ring, and he'd asked Axel if _he wanted to see something cool_. Axel shrugged, _yeah, sure, why not_, and the boy took out the carton of cigarettes from his pocket, a lighter from the other.

"Light up," he had said, trying to be confident. The both of them were scared shitless. Axel thought it was a little bit ridiculous. He'd fucked, been fucked, sucked off, been sucked off, had gone the whole nine yards and maybe more. One little cigarette couldn't scare him. It didn't even do justice as a phallic symbol.

He smelled the tobacco burning on the end of the cigarette. His friend lit his own cigarette and the two of them sat looking at each other, daring the other one to take a puff first. They both did it at the same time.

Axel felt something hot go past his mouth, burn the back of his throat. He struggled not to choke. God, it fucking _hurt._ He puffed again, inhaled harder. His eyes burned, his throat cried out in pain. He clamped the cigarette between his teeth and breathed out slowly through his nose, feeling the burn travel all the way up his sinuses, watching the smoke come out in wispy tendrils.

"Fuck," Axel said, and started laughing. The smoke curling in the air—the sight of that, the feeling that accompanied knowing that Axel himself had done that—made the pain worth it.

His roommate was coughing uncontrollably. "I can't believe—" he wheezed, "—that you are not feeling a fucking _thing_."

Axel smirked. Let him think he was invincible. "Aw, don't be a pussy. Just try it again."

His friend glared at him, but owned up to the challenge. He lit up another cigarette and puffed it slowly, his eyes growing watery and growing a little red, but he did it without saying anything. Axel finished off his cigarette with relish, not minding the pain as long as he saw the smoke coming out of his mouth. That—that was fucking _sexy_.

"This is fucking _disgusting_." His roommate said, flicking his cigarette butt over the roof. Axel watched it spiral down three stories and land somewhere in the school courtyard. "I'm not even gonna lie to you, Axel. I don't know how my mom can put up with such a shitty habit."

"Well." Axel said, plucking the carton of cigarettes from his roommate's hand, "you've got me hooked. I'll be taking these now."

"You can't be serious."

"Serious as all fuckin' hell." Axel winked. "Oh, don't make that face."

"What face?" His roommate grimaced.

"One last one." Axel drew another cig from the carton. "Hand over the lighter."

His roommate dug it out of his pocket, almost angrily. "You'll die, man."

"We're all going to die." Axel said, lighting up. He watched the flame on the lighter wave back and forth. "But we'll all die differently. Me—" Axel breathed in sharply, triumphant at his discovery— "I want to go up in flames."

"With tubes down your throat and oxygen pumped into your lungs?"

"Whatever."

"You don't even have the health insurance for that kind of thing."

"Who the fuck cares?" Axel sucked in the smoke. Feel that burn? Shit, his voice was going to be hoarse tomorrow. He was going to sound like he threw up all night. "I'm dying young."

"Axel." His friend shook his head. "Don't say things like that."

He had tried to make it sound flippant, but his friend was rubbing his hands together, a classic sign of worry. Axel leaned over, put his hand on his friend's shoulder. It tensed under his grip.

"Hey," Axel said, "before you quit smoking altogether,"

_the burn_, _it was fucking amazing_

"—let's shotgun it." It was something he'd heard about… something to add to the hazards of smoking—the hazards of societal belligerence.

"Shotgun—" His roommate spluttered, "—what do you—"

Axel closed his lips over his friend's, sealed the space tight between their mouths, and breathed out. His friend compliantly breathed in even as he was shaking—in anger, fear, desperation, what? Axel wanted to laugh again. Fuckfuck_fuck_, this was great. Flame, meet cigarette. Make smoke.

_I'm breathing life into your lungs, you bastard_, he thought. _You'd better appreciate it._

He flung the barely-smoked cigarette over the roof and stuck his tongue into his friend's mouth. Before the other boy could push him away, he drew back and wiped his mouth off on the back of his sleeve.

"Gotcha." Axel grinned.

"Oh god." His friend choked. "I really did not need that. I can't believe you."

"You took it like a man." Axel patted him on the back. "I'm proud of you. Just try to resist the temptation to kiss me, now that you've gotten a taste of it."

"Axel, you scare me sometimes." Still spluttering, still indignant. Some distant part of Axel thought it was kind of endearing. He looked out at the horizon, the white cumulus clouds and the azure sky and thought about everything that lay beyond what he could see, the things he had never questioned before.

"But it's great to be alive," Axel said. "And we're living now. Don't forget it."

By the time they got back to the room, Axel had developed a headache. He wasn't sure if it was psychosomatic; some manifestation of guilt from committing this final illicit act—he didn't care. He went straight to his room, swallowed two ibuprofen, drank an entire bottle of water, and fell onto the couch. He was aware that his friend followed suit, but was half asleep when he felt his roommate's head drop on his shoulder.

Axel woke, parched and needing to pee; His friend was curled at his side, breathing into his shoulder. His breath was moist, and he snored.

Axel was right, he thought; this isn't new. Living together wasn't new; falling asleep on the couch in front of the television wasn't new. He shouldn't think too much about it.

His roommate opened his eyes, sighed, realized his position, and sat up a little too abruptly. "Hey," he murmured. "I'm hungry."

"Me, too. And I gotta pee."

"Me, too." He sighed again, and rolled onto his back. "Nothing for it, then."

Axel rolled off the couch, and held out his hands to His friend, pulling him up. His friend was wearing his socks, Air Force-issued boxers, and a tee shirt, so he pulled on his heavy coat; it was too cold in the room to wander around looking for a late-night snack. Axel shrugged into his long-sleeved shirt, and they padded out of their room through the winding hallway and into the kitchen. His friend made them a sandwich of leftover bread spread with the yogurt cheese and filled with onions, while Axel fetched a carton of milk and two mugs.

His friend filled the glasses, and raised his mug to Axel. "Here's tae us. Wha's like us? Damn few, and they're a' deid, mair's the pity!"

Axel goggled at him, then started to laugh. "That's the worst Irish accent --"

"Shh! And it's Scots."

"The worst Scottish accent I ever heard, me boyo."

"Oh, like your phony Irish accent is something to write home to Dublin about."

"Well, it's a damn sight better that yours."

"And did you really say 'me, boyo'? Good god, Axel. Just drink the damn stuff already."

"No, no. You started it. Uh . . ." Axel frowned, and then held up his cup. "The things, good Lord, that we pray for, give us the grace to work for."

His friend sipped his milk, then said approvingly, "Sir Thomas Moore. I'm very impressed."

Axel smiled at him, and took a big bite of his sandwich.

They munched in silence. They stood at the counter, side by side, Axel leaning against his friend, and said nothing. The quiet soaked into Axel, the weight of unspoken things.

Axel sighed, and took another bite of his sandwich. In a minute, they'd hit the bathroom, and head to their rooms. They'd sleep. Eventually he'd wake, still and looking up sightlessly at the ceiling, and they'd get through another day. And then another. And then still others, until the day would come when one of them wouldn't get through it, and the other would be bereft. An unbalanced star in a hitherto binary system.

Until then, Axel thought, and lifted his cup again. Until that day.

He set down his sandwich and cup, lightly brushing the crumbs off his fingers, and turned to face his friend, who also set down his impromptu meal. They stared at each other.

"I'm gonna head outside for a smoke," he finally said, and his friend nodded.

- - -

Axel's brother came to visit on a sunny afternoon. Axel had just finished with the last class of the day when his teacher called him over to tell him that the principal had told him to tell him that his brother was waiting at the front gates.

So Axel headed over like a good kid.

Axel's older brother was a head taller than Axel and even more handsome (if that were really possible, thought Axel—he was pretty much considered the cream of the crop around here). Instead of being cursed with Axel's flaming-red-stoplight-fire-truck hair, his mop was a supinely royal shade of auburn and was just slightly curly. His brother kept his hair short, while Axel liked to leave it long, sort of as a side-note _fuck you_ to the authority that he had to listen to every day. Just remind them of that cheekiness.

"Hey," his brother smiled.

"Hey," Axel returned, managing a polite smile.

"Thought I'd check up on you." They walked along the path away from the campus. "How's school?"

"That's one of the questions you don't ask. But since we're so estranged anyway, I don't really blame you."

His brother shot him an amused look. "Then pray tell, what kind of questions should I be asking?"

Axel smirked. "Question one: how's the car? Question two: how's the room? Question three: how's the roommate?"

"And?"

"I don't have a car, my room's a mess, and I'm fucking the roommate."

"Oh." His brother raised an eyebrow and paused. "So, he doesn't fuck you?"

"What the hell?" Axel grinned, a little wildly. "No shit."

"Fucking or not," his brother sighed, "I checked in with the headmaster, and he says you're doing fine—you're in the top ten percent of the class."

"You know the headmaster personally well enough to talk to him?" Axel shook his head, and made a fisting motion. "Mm-mm-good, like that?"

"I make it a point to know people," his brother replied smoothly.

"You barely know me." Axel replied, his voice unintentionally hard. He caught himself in time before he could say anything else. What the fuck? He couldn't care less.

"I was busy, you know that."

"And I don't hold it against you."

"I had things to do."

"What are you up to these days?"

"I'm wearing a suit and tie to work."

"This one of your casual days, then?"

"You weren't worth the jacket, so I left it in the car."

"How's your car?"

"I drive stick. It probably explains why I don't give handjobs to my roommate."

"Too tired?"

"Too experienced." His brother shook his head and laughed. "Nobody can keep up with me."

Axel gave his brother a sidelong glance, studying his profile. "I probably could."

His brother didn't skip a beat. "You think so?"

"We've got the same genes."

A slight pause, then a nod of acquiescence. "Well, good luck with that."

Axel pursed his lips together in thought. "Thanks."

- - -

A few nights later, Axel woke up craving a cigarette. He hopped off the top bunk and landed on the floor without a sound, not disturbing his sleeping roommate. Cracking open the windows, he sat on the edge and lit up.

There were a lot of things that he could care about, especially at his age. He could care about his friends, or his brother—the only family he had—or his grades, or his future, or anything like that. The truth was, he really wasn't concerned about any of those except for his future—and being concerned about his future meant that he had to be concerned about his grades and his friends and family, if only for the reasons that they'd be of some use to him in the future.

He wondered if he should change his outlook. He wondered what meant more to him, power, or—

"Axel?"

"Hm?"

"You're smoking?" His roommate yawned and tried to muster a glare. It didn't quite work, he was still too bleary. "Throw it out the window and get into bed already."

"I see," Axel said, smiling lopsidedly. "Want me to take care of that morning wood for you?"

"What?" Wide awake now. "_What?_ Axel, it's fucking four in the morning. Classes don't start for another four hours. Are you _fucking kidding me._"

"It was a proposition for the future. I'm quite aware of the time."

"Oh."

He watched the other boy's face flush in embarrassment, arousal, and indignation. Axel liked that kind of power, to make people react that way. He felt a throbbing in his gut that wasn't brought on by the burn of the cigarette. He wondered if he should do something about it, then decided against it.

"I'll go back to sleep," he said, affecting his most charming smile, not that anybody could see it in the dark. "And see you in the morning."

- - -

As promised, Axel took care of the proffered morning wood. Several minutes and a bed full of sticky sheets later, they tumbled out of bed and hurriedly got ready for class, not a word spoken.

First class of the day—some humanities course—Axel was about to doze off in lecture (mutual handjobs were a tiring business, after all) when he noticed a very pretty girl looking at him from the corner of her eye. He leaned over to his right and whispered,

"who's that?"

to one of his classmates. His classmate, jolted from taking notes, replied irritably,

"that's the new girl. She's a transfer from one of those junior schools. I don't know what her name is."

Axel smiled to himself and leaned back in his chairs, closing his eyes. A few minutes later he heard the girl get up and leave. Axel counted fifteen seconds, and then got up as well, tucking his notes and books under his chair.

She was lingering out in the hallway, apparently waiting for him. "Hey," she said.

"Wanna fuck?" Axel said.

"What, that's it?" The girl shook her head. "You don't even give me any preamble of foreplay?"

"All right," Axel said, and dug into his pocket. "How much?"

The girl spluttered indignantly.

"I'm just playing with you."

"I can't believe you."

"Oh, you'll be able to believe me soon enough."

"You're horrible."

"No," he said, leaning in, pressing his hips against hers, "I'm Axel."

"Axel..." She murmured, suddenly docile.

"A-x-e-l." He said, breathing the letters into her ear, tracing the tip of his tongue along the lobe of her ear. She gave an involuntary shudder. "Got it memorized?"

She came back into class first, her face a little redder, her blouse a little wrinkled, but not looking worse for the wear. Axel strolled in fifteen seconds later, looking to all the world as if he had just taken a walk in the park.

His classmate gave him another irritated look and continued taking notes.

- - -

Here was a boy growing into the prime of his life; unhindered by fear of fear, causes of causes. Here he was, lying on a grassy hillside during school hours with his eyes closed and his mouth full of chewing gum and the smell of cigarettes and original sin. He had an easy, forthcoming kind of genius, half of a family, a roommate of convenience, and girls when and where he wanted them.

Most importantly, he had a burn in his lungs ate away at his heart, a burn that reminded himself that he was slowly dying, but not yet, no, not yet.

- - -

- - -

- - -

- - -


	3. Prologue 2

**Archipelago**

_By Radishface_

**A/N**: Feedback is highly appreciated! I look forward to hearing what readers think, especially as this story goes on; I have some major things planned for this piece, including further study into character dynamics as well as the rationalization (and tacit question of plausibility) of the Kingdom Hearts universe. I will try to keep this as close as possible to the original story (although some may argue that I may not do the same for the characters), but at this point I do not know of a site that offers the complete chronology of events. If somebody would be willing to point me out in that direction, I would be most appreciative. Once again, thanks for reading!

**Prologue**

The bus came around, lethargic and creaking. The sun was just peeking over the horizon now; violent, concentrated rays of light scattered over the suburban landscape. Sora could hear the gulls by the beach crying their morning breaths; the sound of waves echoed distantly in the back of his head.

"Roxas." Sora repeated, and felt a kind of unconscious, crushing glee. "Roxas."

The bus doors opened. Sora turned around and ascended the stairs, expecting the red-haired stranger to follow. He did.

They sat down next to each other on the old faux-leather seats. The stuffing was spilling out of the seams. Sora wished he had worn shorts.

"So, you—" He started,

"Right. I'm sorry." The redhead blurted out, and started to laugh. It was surprising and a bit unexpected—a few students grumbled disapprovingly as they were jolted from their midmorning naps. "I should introduce myself, right?"

Sora nodded gravely, not knowing what to make of the situation.

"Well, I don't know." The redhead smiled conspiratorially. "What should I introduce myself as?"

"As—" Sora blinked. "As yourself, of course!"

This outburst solicited a few more grumbles from the bus passengers and an unappreciative grunt from the bus driver. Sora ignored them.

"As—" The stranger pursed his lips together and looked out the window. "Look, why don't you give me a name?"

"Axel." Sora said immediately, confidently. "You're Axel, right?"

_Yes, he had seen Axel die, but of course… of course, nothing was impossible in this world_.

"Who's that?" The redhead shook his head, unmoved.

"What do you mean by that--? He's—isn't he— "

"Try again."

"I—" Sora's heart was racing, and he felt the color drain from his face, completely unheeded. His fingertips felt cold.

His body was experiencing these things involuntarily. Sora did not know why he should care, or even if he _did _care about this stranger. But something.

Something—!

"Look, it doesn't really matter." The stranger said. "I can be Axel, I can be whatever you want to call me. I really don't care."

"I'm sorry if I don't understand." Sora said, dejected. "I don't understand what you're trying to tell me."

"It's like this," the redhead—Axel, whatever—turned around, eyes blazing; Sora shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "we all come into being, and—we just _are_. And I know that I'm missing something really key in my life. And—"

He sat back abruptly and closed his eyes and remained like that for a minute. Sora reached out and touched his shoulder; the other man didn't respond.

"Sorry," he said a few moments later, eyes opening, shivering as if he were shaking off something. "Just needed a moment there. I know I sound crazy."

"It's okay," Sora's eyebrows knitted together and he twisted his hands in his lap. "I'm sorry I can't help."

"No, I know, but—" The man's voice dropped to a whisper. "I wish I could find him. Her. It. Is it a place, a person, a thing?"

"Roxas?"

"Yeah."

Sora wanted to say so badly. He didn't doubt that the redhead could sense that some part of him was related to Roxas; otherwise, how could he have found him across such space in such little time? It couldn't have been more than a year since he was reunited with Roxas. So Sora knew, of course, and he could feel his vocal chords quivering with the urge to speak, honesty—honesty, above all things, beguiling him to tell.

"Well, good luck with that..." Sora said, and let his voice trail off.

The stranger kept staring out the window, lost in thought.

They made a few more stops, picked up more people. Sora's heart started beating hard again, a lump formed in his throat and he swallowed many times to try to get it to go away, but it persisted. He wanted to talk, he wanted to talk so badly. He wanted to say something nice, something encouraging.

_No, you can't tell him! _

_I want to! I want to! It's not fair to him, he's been searching for so long!_

_How the hell do you know who he is, anyways? He's nobody important to you—_

_But it feels, it feels like—_

The bus driver announced: "Oracle High School, last stop."

Students were shuffling about, picking up their backpacks from the floor, making their way down the narrow bus aisle. They passed by Sora, who sat as still as possible, as if trying to disappear.

The redhead turned to him concernedly. "Hey, don't you have to go to class?"

Sora bit his lip. "I—" he tried, and then tried again, "aren't you going too?"

"Me?" The redhead laughed. "Nah. I think I'll skip class today. Keep looking. Or get some food. I'm kind of hungry."

"Oh!" Sora dove into his backpack and started rummaging around, "I think I have an apple or something—I brought it from home—"

"Don't worry about it." The redhead got up and moved past Sora, into the aisle. "I'll get going. Sorry for bothering you this morning. I don't know what came over me—usually I can keep my cool.

See ya."

Sora looked up, eyes wide and unwillingly filling with tears. _What—? _

But he'd already left. Sora was still hunched over his backpack, his hands moving aimlessly inside, and found the apple, brought it up and out of the bag.

It gleamed bright red at him, juicy and promising, and Sora took a bite, closed his eyes. Two tears rolled down his cheeks. He felt hollow.

"Hey, kid." The bus driver turned around and stomped his foot to get Sora's attention. "In case you didn't notice, your friend's already gone. Get out of here, I have to drive this thing back."

- - -

The bells rang at 2:30 and Sora had never been more glad for them in his entire life. He power-walked to the bus stop and sat down and waited for it to arrive.

He could barely stand as it was. He hadn't eaten lunch in favor of moody contemplation of what he had done that morning. He had withheld the truth from somebody; not even for his own happiness, or out of any selfish reason. In fact, he was sure that he would have been happier if he had told the stranger the entire story about Roxas and the Keyblade and Kingdom Hearts; though it was likely that telling this story would have taken all day and Sora would have had to skip class and feel a different kind of guilt entirely.

"Hey, Sora." Riku uncannily appeared out of nowhere and sat down next to him. "You going home now?"

_Where else would I be going? _Sora thought to himself, uncharacteristically grumpy. But he managed a sunny smile for his best friend, even if he could feel the weariness tugging it down. "Yeah. You don't have any club activities after school today, Riku?"

"Well," Riku huffed, cheeks turning a little red. "I do. But. I noticed that you looked a little down today. Anything happen?"

_What a nice guy._ "Not really," Sora said, conscious that he was withholding another truth.

Riku gave him a Look.

"Well," Sora relented. "I talked to this guy this morning. Or rather, this guy talked to me. It was weird."

"He didn't— wait, he didn't do anything… bad to you, did he?" Riku's voice grew alarmed.

Sora blushed furiously and buried his face in his hands. "No! No, nothing like that—geez, Riku, why are you always thinking about stuff like that?"

Riku cleared his throat. "Actually, I wasn't implying anything. I thought this kid had stolen your lunch money or something. I didn't mean anything like whatever you're thinking about" He smirked at Sora. "Whose mind is in the gutter, now?"

"Shoot." Sora grimaced, and they both laughed at the same time.

"But seriously," Riku shook his head, "what did you two talk about?"

"Well…" Sora twisted his fingers in his lap, wondering why the hell he was beating around the bush so much, "nothing really. He asked me a question."

"Nothing suspicious, right?"

"No." Sora said. "Just… about stuff."

"Stuff?" Riku encouraged.

"Like… stuff. About Kingdom Hearts."

Riku's eyes widened. "A Nobody?"

Sora shivered. "I don't think so. But he asked me about Roxas."

Silence. Sora looked over at Riku. The other boy was hunched over, elbows on his legs, fingers crossed, eyes looking at some point on the horizon.

"He doesn't know that you and Roxas are the same person?"

"It— no, when I talked to him he really sounded like he didn't know."

"Hey." Riku said, and his voice seemed very distant, but steely.

"What?" Sora's voice was a little above a whisper.

"If you see that guy again, don't talk to him again."

"Okay." Sora replied automatically.

"No, really. Promise me?" Riku looked at him, blue eyes dark.

"Okay. I promise."

This seemed to appease him, because Riku gave a relieved sigh and leaned back on the bench. "That's good. Because knowing the way you work, you really _would _take candy from a stranger."

"_Hey,_" Sora protested, "I know better than that. They taught us that stuff when we were in elementary school!"

"That's what I'm saying," Riku said, and dodged the punch aimed at his stomach.

They sparred like that for a few minutes, and then the bus rolled up, creaking and wheezing, puffs of black smoke steaming from its wizened tires.

"All right," Sora got up, smiled at Riku, "I'm sorry for keeping you from your club activities. See you later."

He turned to go, but Riku reached out and touched his hand—Sora turned his head and saw Riku looking at him intently.

"Just—" Riku said, voice small.

"…Riku?" Sora frowned.

"Nah." Riku huffed, and shook his head. "Just looking—to see that you're going to keep your promise. Don't take the candy, kid."

"Ch'." Sora stuck out his tongue.

"See? You _are _ a kid."

"_Bye_, Riku." Sora turned, and headed to the bus.

"…See ya."

- - -


End file.
